Lu Zeyan studied his reflection for a minute long....
She was right, the makeup had worked small miracles, transforming exhaustion into determination, stress into strength, creating exactly the image Wang Jing had demanded.
He looked tired but resolved, worn but unbroken.
A knock sounded at the door, pulling him from his thoughts.
"Mr. Lu? Miss Shuyin's wardrobe is ready. Would you like to approve?"
"Send her in," he called, bracing himself without quite knowing why.
When Shuyin entered a moment later, Lu Zeyan's breath caught in his throat despite every intention to remain unmoved.
She was wearing a simple dress in pale blue, the cut modest without being matronly, elegant without any trace of flashiness.
Her black hair had been styled in soft waves that framed her face like a halo, emphasizing rather than hiding its unusual color.
Minimal jewelry caught the light subtly at her ears and throat.
